


in the palm of your freezing hand

by sophbees



Category: RWBY
Genre: Almost Kiss, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Summer Rose - Freeform, Minor Renora, Missing Scene, Spoilers: Volume 8 (RWBY), V08Ch11 Spoilers, mentions of basically every character in ch11, minor Nuts and Dolts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:15:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29942271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophbees/pseuds/sophbees
Summary: Yang’s thumb trails over her palm, making Blake’s heart flip in her chest. “I missed you,” she whispers.“I missed you too,” Blake whispers back. She tries for levity—more Yang’s strong suit than hers, but she tries—and adds, “Jaune said you punched Salem in the tit. I wish I could’ve been there to see it.”It works: Yang lets out a small laugh, and oh, how she missed that laugh, how she missed the way her head always tilts back and the way her eyes seem to sparkle. It’s silly, because it’s only been a day—or two—but Blake feels like she has to drink her in, memorize all the details in case they’re separated again. Had her hair always been this soft and golden, just aching for Blake to reach out and twine it around her finger? Had she always been this tall, this solid, this perfect for Blake to curl up against?“I wish you’d been there, too,” says Yang, and there’s the double meaning, the subtext that lurks beneath all their words. Bring it to the surface, begs Blake—she’d been so certain that she was going to kiss her just now, and her lips are still warm from the ghost of her breath.—Blake and Yang have a quiet moment to themselves after reuniting.
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 186





	in the palm of your freezing hand

**Author's Note:**

> so this past episode implied that blake and yang had a moment alone to talk...
> 
> (title from taylor swift’s “ivy”)

Yang smells like smoke, but then again, hasn’t she always? Blake finds it strangely comforting—a reminder that she survives, that she’s _here_ , that she can live through anything. That she can come face-to-face with a breathing, seething god and still be able to press Blake’s palm between her own. 

The two of them sit on the stairs of the entry hall, near the railing. Even though Weiss cranked up the heat when they first arrived, a harsh iciness still fills the hall, as though the house itself is resisting any attempts to be a home. The longer Blake spends here, the more she understands Weiss’s... _everything._

She sits just a step above Yang, her legs draped across her lap. Blake didn’t use to be such a touchy person, but it’s been a long day—two days? It feels like it’s been both an hour and a lifetime—and she’s too tired to notice. She’s spent too much time being heartsick to be embarrassed. 

Besides, it isn’t as though anyone’s paying attention to them right now. After Ironwood’s delightful announcement, Ruby had practically sprinted to the bedroom where Penny lay, having fallen unconscious yet again. The way her face had gone deathly pale had struck Blake with familiarity; after Beacon, she would have given anything to kneel at Yang’s bedside and cling to her the way Ruby was no doubt doing now. 

Ren had repeated, “ _Where’s Nora?_ ”, and Weiss had wordlessly pointed at Ruby’s retreating form. Ren followed after her, his face only a bit less white with fear, Jaune hot on his tail. 

That left Oscar, who had strode off to gods-knows-where with a weariness that transcended his years (concerning), and Emerald (equally concerning), who had simply leaned against the wall and shut her eyes. Blake is surprised by the amount of sympathy she holds for her; perhaps she understands more than anything how easily it is to get swept up by people who promise change, only to find out they just want you to be used.

Weiss had given Emerald a long, unreadable look before turning to Blake and Yang. Giving each of their hands a squeeze, she had murmured an uncharacteristic, “I’m glad we’re all back together,” before heading off, presumably to explain the situation to her strange, lurking brother and even stranger mother.

That left the two of them basically alone, so Blake had pulled Yang over to the stairs, desperate for even a few minutes to process all the fucked up shit they’d seen in the past few days. 

Now Yang’s thumb trails over her palm, making Blake’s heart flip in her chest. “I missed you,” she whispers.

“I missed you too,” Blake whispers back. She tries for levity—more Yang’s strong suit than hers, but she tries—and adds, “Jaune said you punched Salem in the tit. I wish I could’ve been there to see it.”

It works: Yang lets out a small laugh, and _oh,_ how she missed that laugh, how she missed the way her head always tilts back and the way her eyes seem to sparkle. It’s silly, because it’s only been a day—or two—but Blake feels like she has to drink her in, memorize all the details in case they’re separated again. Had her hair always been this soft and golden, just aching for Blake to reach out and twine it around her finger? Had she always been this tall, this solid, this perfect for Blake to curl up against?

“I wish you’d been there, too,” says Yang, and there’s the double meaning, the subtext that lurks beneath all their words. _Bring it to the surface_ , begs Blake—she’d been so certain that she was going to kiss her just now, and her lips are still warm from the ghost of her breath. But then again, she’s glad they didn’t; if they had, their first kiss would have been interrupted. And she’s spent too long imagining it to let it be ruined like that.

After all, they’d already been interrupted once. Blake thinks back to the night of the election, the club, the flashing lights and Neon shouting along to the music. She thinks of how all the Strawberry Sunrises in her made her reckless, made her wrap her arms around Yang’s neck and pull her close as they swayed to the beat. _I have something to tell you,_ she’d half-shouted in her ear, and Yang had half-shouted back, _What?_ Blake had cupped her cheek and opened her mouth and then instantly it all went to shit. She’d been so close.

No, she corrects herself, they’d already been interrupted _twice_ . She’d forgotten about the time before even the election, back when they’d first arrived in Atlas. In the very early hours of one morning, Yang had whispered, _Blake, are you asleep?_ and when she stuck her head out and murmured back, _No, why?,_ Yang had climbed into her bunk and curled up next to her. 

_Your new haircut really is beautiful,_ she had said, and reached out to tuck a strand behind her ear. _I had to climb all the way in here to see it._

Blake had giggled. _You’re practically falling out of the bed, Yang._

 _Then keep me from falling,_ she had said, her eyes sparkling, and Blake had grinned and pulled her closer, so close that she was practically on top of her. And then she _was_ on top of her, and Yang was staring down at her with wide eyes, lips slightly parted, her fingers still tangled in her hair. 

Her eyes dropped lower and lower, and Blake had sworn she saw flecks of red. She’d sat up on her elbows as Yang’s other hand practically burned through her sleep shirt, and her thighs parted almost imperceptibly to grip Blake’s hips, and she was almost breathless with anticipation—

And then Penny had burst into the room chirping her usual morning greetings, and Yang had fallen out of the bed, startled, and made such a scene that all the tension dissipated into the air instantly. Blake had climbed out of bed, laughing, ignored Weiss’s raised eyebrows, and pushed it out of her mind.

Yang’s thumb continues tracing delicate lines across her skin, snapping her back to the present. Honestly, Blake doesn’t even care about the kissing—or more—compared to her desperate need to just…be close to her.

“So, the Grimm can speak now,” Yang says, almost casually, and wrecks any chance of a quiet moment with that one line.

“I know,” Blake tells her, and just thinking about it makes her shudder. She knows that the look in that Faunus’s eyes will haunt her until the day she dies. 

“Oscar said Salem told him it was something she’d been working on,” says Yang, shaking her head. “I don’t even want to know what kind of ominous shit that could mean.”

She hesitates, trying to decide where to begin; she has to be the one to tell Yang what they discovered. As awful as it is, as much as she wants to let her and Yang just _be_ , she knows it has to be her. She hates having to be the one to ruin the moment this time, but it would be too much for Ruby to have to break the news.

She settles on starting with: “We had one try to attack us here. It was looking for Penny. Actually _looking_ for her, like it could track her.” She shivers again, reflexively.

Yang nods, like it makes sense. “Ours seemed like that, too. Not the tracking, but the...fixation on Oscar. The intelligence in its eyes was unlike anything I’d ever seen. How were you guys able to take it down?”

“It was mostly the Schnees that did it,” admits Blake. “Ruby and Weiss and I hit it with everything we had, but it didn’t even make a dent. Whitley and Willow finally managed to knock over that huge statue of Weiss’s grandfather—great-grandfather?—and it crushed the thing, but it was a close call.”

“I thought I noticed a pretentious statue missing,” chuckles Yang, and Blake allows herself a moment to laugh along before pressing on.

“Yang,” she says softly, “there’s something you should know.”

Yang’s eyebrows furrow. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“When Ruby attacked it with her powers…” She swallows, the gruesome image filling her head, and starts again. “When Ruby attacked it with her powers, it—it _split open._ It kept coming toward us, but it was split open and we could see…someone inside.”

“Someone _inside_?” Yang physically recoils at the thought, mulling it over. “Like…the Grimm was part person? There was a human controlling it from the inside?”

“Sort of, yes. But he wasn’t _in_ control. It was more like he was _being_ controlled. We think he had fused with the Grimm, maybe. And he was a Faunus, not a human.”

“Oh, Blake.” Yang gives her the softest look and reaches to pull her closer, and that’s what almost breaks her, the way she so easily tries to comfort her when she has no idea what’s coming. “That’s—That’s awful. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“That’s not the important part, though,” Blake adds quickly. She takes Yang’s hand, switches their roles, brushes her thumb across her palm; she knows it calms her, grounds her. “The Faunus—he had silver eyes.”

For a brief moment, Yang is silent, still processing. But she’s always been smart and quick to the point, and this is no exception. Blake can see the exact moment it hits—her eyes widen, her jaw tightens—and anticipates, sliding down a step so they’re eye-to-eye and pulling her into her arms. “I’m sorry,” she says into her hair, and Yang sags against her.

“My mom…” she says, and trails off. 

Blake picks up the unspoken ending to her sentence. “We think so.” 

There’s a sniffle, and Yang buries her head into Blake’s shoulder. She rubs circles on her back, gives her the space to cry. “I’m sorry,” she repeats. 

Yang pulls back, swipes at the tears staining her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I need to talk to Ruby,” she says. “She must be so…I need to…” She starts to rise, but Blake stops her gently.

“Yang?”

“Yes?”

“You don’t always have to be the one who comforts everyone else.”

Yang sits back down, tentatively. “Ruby is my baby sister,” she says. “Of course I have to comfort her.”

“I know,” says Blake, squeezing her hand. “But that doesn’t mean that you have to pretend not to be upset. You’re allowed to grieve, too.” Maybe _grieve_ was the wrong word, but how else would you describe a revelation like this?

“I need to be strong for Ruby,” Yang protests, and Blake reaches up to brush away another tear that was beginning to fall. 

“Not always,” she tells her, and she thinks of Beacon—a sunlit classroom, Yang leaning against a blackboard, her arms around her. “Remember, it’s okay for the people you love to see you upset. You don’t always have to put on a front of strength. You’re allowed to take a breath sometimes.” 

Yang’s smile is small, but still there. “You think so?”

“Yes,” Blake says firmly. “You’re her big sister, yes, but most importantly, you’re her _sister_. You can comfort each other. You can ask for comfort.” She brushes away another tear, and almost leans forward to kiss her cheek out of instinct before she remembers herself.

“I don’t even know what to say,” Yang admits. “I don’t know how to convince her that it’s gonna be okay, Blake.”

“And you don’t have to,” she reminds her. “Besides, I _know_ you, Yang. You’re good at making people feel better even when you don’t know how things are going to turn out. You’ve always been good at that.” She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I know that more than anyone.” 

“Really?” 

“Really,” Blake promises. Yang leans forward to press their foreheads together again. 

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice a little hoarse. “I’m so—I’m so glad we’re back together again, Blake.”

“I’m so glad, too.”

Footsteps on the stairs above them causes Yang to look up again. Blake follows her gaze, and sees Weiss leading Ruby back downstairs. The poor girl looks absolutely undone, a haggard look in her eyes that concerns Blake far more than anything else she’d seen recently. 

“Penny is still asleep,” says Ruby, her voice flat and un-Ruby-like.

“Klein says we should let her sleep for a little while longer,” says Weiss, who, at least, seems to be holding it together better than the rest of them. “Jaune and Ren are reuniting with Nora right now. We thought we’d give them a minute.” 

“We’re meeting in the dining room to discuss our options,” Ruby tells them. She’s got a fistful of her cloak in her hand, twisting it and untwisting it again and again. “The few choices we even have, I mean. Where’s Oscar?”

“I’ll find him,” says Weiss, gently pushing Ruby forward. “You go ahead, alright?” She shoots them a worried look behind Ruby’s back. 

Yang stands up wordlessly, and puts an arm around her sister. They move as one tired being down the stairs and into the dining room. Weiss and Blake linger on the stairs, watching them go.

“How’s Yang?” asks Weiss quietly.

“Not well,” Blake admits, matching her volume. “I told her about the silver-eyed warrior. She came to the same conclusion we did.”

Weiss sighs, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hand. “I wish they didn’t have to come to terms with it like this,” she says, and this is the best version of Weiss, the one that Blake loves most—the sweet, genuine girl who cares so much about her team. 

“It’s all going so fast,” agrees Blake. “I wish we could just…have a moment to breathe.”

“Yang is lucky to have you,” Weiss says suddenly. 

“She’s lucky to have all of us,” says Blake, fighting a blush. “Ruby, too.”

“Yes, but—” Weiss’s smile says that she understands exactly what’s happening. “—she’s lucky to have you in particular.” She wipes her hands on her skirt and starts to walk down the steps in that delicate way of hers. 

“Yeah,” Blake says, almost to no one in particular. “Yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked this work and/or you think the bees should kiss, feel free to leave a comment or a kudos! feel free to hmu me up on tumblr at @girlbossblakebelladonna to talk rwby!


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